


crystal roses

by bunnieju



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Injury, Cancer, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hanahaki Disease, Hanasaki Disease, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kouseki Disease, M/M, Mentions of Car Accidents, Mentions of surgery, Past Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Na Jaemin, Self-Hatred, or at least just its cousin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25495147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnieju/pseuds/bunnieju
Summary: They were still Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin, two people that met as hospital patients with their own individual traumas. They were Huang Renjun withering away like a flower and Na Jaemin being consumed by crystals.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	crystal roses

**Author's Note:**

> i was inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/granveIIe/status/1282112129479385091) and thought maybe i could put my hands in a less common trope! this is completely self-indulgent and a means of procrastination.
> 
> thanks to [haru](https://twitter.com/damn_lemonade) and [winnie](https://twitter.com/jenhyucks) for reading my mess and helping me fix it
> 
> [soundtrack for this fic:](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5DkEluWNIaMMbq8cW8GjvD?si=-EHc2LcNQOuNbXkkhd0xpw)
> 
> golden - fall out boy  
> far too young to die - panic! at the disco  
> sun&moon - nct127  
> lost//found - eden  
> mist - ateez  
> fools - troye sivan

Na Jaemin. Na Jaemin and a body of crystal.

If you were to ask him when the crystals began consuming his weakening body, he would never be able to answer. 

He’d recall the time he stood in the hospital lobby all alone at 8 am signing his release documents, with his left hand because the right one was still in a cast. He’d recall returning to life with a considerable person-shaped hole in it, emotions so muddy he could only describe it as empty. 

Then he’d propose that maybe it was when he sat in the university cafeteria, surrounded by faces he didn't care about and drowning in pity he could never escape. Or maybe it was when he arrived home after months of feeling numb and finally let the anger and grief consume him as he tore apart everything in sight. Maybe it was when he sat in the aftermath of the hurricane he became, ankle-deep in tears and sorrowful screams until he fell asleep.

What he would be able to tell you is that in the morning, he was roused from his sleep by a searing beam of light, a beam of light way too powerful for the gentle morning sun. He released a pained groan as his body became willfully aware of the crick in his neck and the soreness of his back from his living room’s hardwood flooring. Raising himself off the ground, Jaemin sighed and rubbed his eyes, not looking forward to cleaning the mess he made during his breakdown. For a moment, he paused then lightly sat on the backrest of his couch and allowed himself to stare at the view of the blue sky where it met with the cityscape from the slightly dirty glass doors of his balcony. Just a moment to himself with no complex thoughts or intruding worries.

However, the day had to go on and while he had already decided he was to miss his classes for the day, he still had to return some semblance of normalcy to his apartment and himself. The typical city noises and the quiet padding of his feet interrupted the silence as he made his way to the bathroom. It was another day of putting himself together again — or it was supposed to be before he stood in front of his sink, toothbrush in mouth and eyes glued to the reflection of his shoulder, of lightly shimmering material peaking out from his collar.

His brain had not yet caught up to his body even as his hand reached up and pulled his shirt off his shoulder to reveal glowing crystal covering a small patch of his shoulder, consuming skin. His brain had not yet caught up, but it still provided him with tiny whispers about how it was only fair for what he’d done. Jaemin let his hands run across the affected skin and the cold gleaming crystal was real, so so real. And maybe his brain would never catch up, but at least it allowed him the autopilot to get him through the day.

Time was only background noise to him; muted and ignored, but never truly absent — always one step behind him. Jaemin paid it no mind as he spent the better part of his day cleaning and ensuring his apartment was devoid of anything that could spoil in his absence. Then, as 4 p.m. struck, he began packing. It still hadn’t registered in his head why he was packing, but as 5 p.m. rolled by he was already sat on a bus, full bag at his feet.

Within half an hour, he was walking through the doors of a hospital, bag in hand and standing in front of the on-duty nurse at the front desk. He didn’t say much as the nurse inquired about his visit and only pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the crystal patch that had somehow grown a tiny bit bigger. As the clock struck 5:34 p.m., he was sitting on an examination table, shirtless with two doctors observing his shoulder with poorly conceived amazement. Later that evening, he was sitting on a bed in the intensive care unit.

‘The third known case in South Korea’s history,’ they had told him as they explained his condition, but Jaemin was an aspiring doctor in his second year of med school and knew exactly what was wrong with him as a courtesy of the Rare Diseases in Medicine course he took for extra credits the previous semester.

Crystallization disease, an idiopathic disease where crystal grows all over the person’s body until it completely consumes them; extremely rare with no known cause or treatment. Patients afflicted with the disease lose mobility within seven months and never live past a year, but therapy seems to slow down the growth of the crystal.

Jaemin knew that walking past those hospital doors would consign him to prodding, examination, and a small period of media attention for the rest of his life, but his brain did a magnificent job at convincing him it was simply penance. 

For the first week, he was subjected to physical and genetic tests and examinations by doctors from all over the country. For the second week, he was subjected to news interviews. For the third week, Jaemin was subjected to audiences with foreign doctors.

A rare and unfamiliar disease that everyone ran to study, but no one ever found solutions for. A boy in a hospital room; a guinea pig with dull eyes.

Sleepless nights spent floating through the hours. Nightmare after nightmare, yet it was all the same. An unlit road, voices continually rising in volume, anger setting them on fire, headlights and a horn, shattering glass edged with crunching metal, blood and a weakened voice calling out for help.

Two survivors and three dead; Jaemin had lost four months to recovery, but he often visited the burial sites of those who would never recover.

Maybe if he had been stronger, maybe if he had been smarter, maybe if he didn’t let hatred eat away at his chest, he could have done things differently and this would have been a different story. But even without the disease, he was weak and hollow, so it would never matter.

By the fourth week, media attention had died down and Jaemin had been placed into a treatment and evaluation schedule that had him seeing doctors only three times a week unless it was an emergency. His life had finally settled into the bubbled life of a lab mouse as he expected, and he knew he wouldn’t be allowed anything more than it.

_ Penance _ , he reminded himself.

  
  


Huang Renjun. Huang Renjun and a crown of roses.

If you were to ask him when the flowers began growing out of his frail body, he would tell you to mind your own business.

But Renjun would reminisce the day he arrived in South Korea with his whole life packed into three suitcases — two with his belongings and one metaphorical, with the heavy memories he’ll never be able to get rid of.

Stepping out of Incheon International Airport, the feelings hit him all at once: sadness, anger, loneliness, fear, and shame all balled into one sucker punch to his stomach and another hand wrapped tight around his throat. Renjun would never allow himself to cry, never again for people, so he simply adjusted his cap and tilted his head to look at the cloudless blue sky as bodies bustled past him, all in their own bubble of life.

Settling in Seoul all alone was something he never expected to be doing, but as he stood in the middle of a newly furnished apartment, he couldn’t deny his reality. Still, Renjun refused to cry, not anymore, and he began rebuilding his life from what they’d destroyed.

Mistakes and failures were abundant in the year to come for the boy that had lost his shine — stumbling about a language he only minimally learned at school back in China, facing the ways he lacked compared to his university classmates, clutching to the loneliness that danced through his apartment, falling into the divide he placed between him and everyone else.

But Renjun would not cry. He still had so much to become, he still had so much of himself to change. He couldn’t cry, not anymore. 

He still had so much to become, but every time he looked in the mirror he could never quite remember what exactly was on that list. Everything muddled into something unrecognizable. With every glance, Renjun hated the mess a little more.

He should have seen it coming; anyone could have seen it coming.

The singular light of the bright lamp in his bedroom combated the darkness of his apartment, and the wall clock’s loud ticks were the only sounds filling the room, reminding him of his existence. But Renjun had lost track of himself long ago, eyes never leaving the bubble of his canvas.

It was supposed to be a project for his painting course, however, it had stopped being just that the moment Renjun had touched the canvas. The previous white slate had been quickly filled with blues, blacks, and purples, then contrasted with whites, yellows, and pinks. A messy splatter of paint turned into something coherent once you gave it a second thought. There were stars, but if you looked close enough, some were black holes.

The paint had long since dried, but Renjun had not moved. He simply sat there, hands stained black from the mix of colors he’d messily applied. And when he finally rose from his seat on the bedroom floor, it was out of inability to stay in the same room as his work, out of the hatred for the thing created by his flawed hands.

Renjun stood in front of the sink, watching as the water and soap mixed with the black paint on his hands and disappeared down the drain, but neither water nor soap could rid him of all the paint and it stuck to the corners of his fingers, gathering in the creases.

Looking up at the mirror above the sink, Renjun caught sight of his deteriorating appearance. Red eyes, deep eye bags, chapped lips, and greasy, limp hair hanging over his eyes from how long it was becoming. Even the smudges on the mirror could not hide the truth. Huang Renjun was a muddled person.

A dirty existence. The kind of dirty that no amount of water or chemicals could ever even attempt to scrape off of him. The kind of dirty that sunk its claws in and held him down, forever a stain. 

Huang Renjun could never become anything better. 

He was cursed to remain the same unlovable little boy who only brought shame to anyone and anything he touched. It was why he was in South Korea, after all — it was easier to build a better image of someone in their absence, and no one wanted a gay son that couldn’t even pick an actual career.

It wasn’t even a decision he made; it was a decision that the hurricane of emotions consuming him made. That day Huang Renjun grabbed his paint and painted every mirror in his apartment black, unable to continue looking at an existence as dirty as his own.

And with every passing day after that, he’d pretend to not notice the looks of concern and pity thrown his way. He knew his appearance was at its absolute worst, but he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. Renjun continued on, every day somehow more tiring than the last.

What he didn’t anticipate was his digital art professor to pull him aside and ask him how his treatment was going.

“What?” Renjun asked after pausing to process the question.

“Your condition? How is your treatment going? I was wondering if I could help you in any way since you haven’t been very vocal to staff or management about your condition.” His professor gave him a pitying smile Renjun despised.

“Professor Kim,” Renjun frowned. “I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You have Flower Blossom Disease, am I wrong? You’ve had roses growing in your hair for a week now, I can only imagine how tired you feel with their growth sucking all your energy.”

Renjun’s eyes widened as his hand reached up to his hair and began feeling around. It didn’t take long for Renjun to feel a strange material, then a sharp piece that caused him to wince in pain and pull his hand back to look at it. Renjun stared as blood started oozing out of a fresh cut on his finger.

Professor Kim asked him if he was okay, but it fell on deaf ears as the world around Renjun had muted the moment he felt the thorns of what he can assume is a rose growing out of his scalp slice into his finger. There was a pounding in Renjun’s ears that he could recognize as his heartbeat, and it seemed as if someone was slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs. 

He should have seen it coming; anyone could have seen it coming.

His brain had checked out, ultimately resulting in Renjun reaching up with his bloodied hand once more, grabbing a hold, then pulling. A sharp pain took over his head and something began dripping down his forehead, covering his vision with stinging red, but he could only stare at the ruined red rose dripping blood from his hand onto the floor before his consciousness ebbed away.

The next time Renjun woke up, he was laying in a white room of a hospital ICU, bandaged and hooked up to an IV. It was the same room where he later received a mental evaluation and then his diagnosis.

‘Unfit for unmonitored treatment,’ they declared. ‘Suffering from one of the most severe and parasitic forms of flower blossom disease.’

Huang Renjun could never become anything better; he should have seen it coming.

  
  
  


Na Jaemin and Huang Renjun. Na Jaemin and Huang Renjun and flowers bathed in crystal light.

They’d met in the gardens of the hospital. Jaemin had finally gotten clearance to roam outside his room for two hours a day, while Renjun’s weekly evaluations finally deemed him able to continue his stay without an eye on him at all hours, but still closely monitored.

By then the crystals had consumed more of Jaemin’s shoulder and were spreading to his back, causing nights to be even more uncomfortable on top of his nightmares. The mandatory therapy sessions had helped with the nightmares, even if just a little, and Jaemin had slipped into an unchanging routine with his experimental treatment plan.

They still didn’t know how to remove the expiration date on him, but Jaemin supposed that he could be worse off. He had his schedule memorized by then: Everyday he was awake by 8 a.m. which was when breakfast would be delivered to his room, then from 9 to 11:30 a.m. he’d be in whatever specialized lab they needed him in, by noon he was back in his room eating lunch only to be whisked away to his daily therapy session or therapeutic leisure activity at 1 p.m. He’d return by 3 p.m. to sit in his room and watch whatever was on tv or check his phone until he fell asleep by 9 p.m., but now that he was allowed two hours of time to roam around, he wanted to take full advantage of it.

A week into his allowed roam time, he’d met a few of the other patients in the ICU — a boy named Jisung suffering from leukemia, a boy named Jeno suffering from a severe form of flower spitting disease, and another boy named Chenle who had amnesia and was recovering from an accident. Meeting them confirmed to Jaemin how cruel existence was to the kindest and most vulnerable of people, and having witnessed how the bruises covered Jisung’s ever-weakening frame or how Jeno would cry while coughing up blood-covered peonies made Jaemin gain a new kind of hatred for whatever higher being existed, if they did.

On that particular day, Jisung had been too tired to move from his bed and Jeno had stayed with him, while Chenle was at one of his late afternoon physical therapy sessions, so Jaemin roamed the hospital gardens on his own instead of sitting at a bench like he usually would. He’d been on a side of the garden he never bothered to explore when he caught sight of a boy sitting on the grass off the paved path, facing a flower bush with a pencil and notebook in hand and deep in concentration.

The first thing he noticed was how absolutely ethereal the boy was. The second thing he noticed was that the boy was afflicted with flower blossom disease, a disease more common and researched than his own, but still deadly and hard to recover from, especially within its structure as a parasitic disease deeply rooted in genetics and mental health.

Flower blossom disease — despite its nature of sucking every drop from energy from a person’s body in order to bloom enchanting flowers, it was a more beautiful disease that attempted to make the person less lonely or self-hating with less than conventional methods. Jaemin had only seen ways it could manifest in pictures, so seeing it in person was a brand new experience.

The flowers covering the boy’s body enhanced the boy’s features. A row of roses wrapped around the crown of his head, contrasting red with black, while a row of red gladiolus trailed from the back of his head, encircling his neck once, then disappeared into the collar of his shirt. There were no more visible flowers, however, the way his light green pajamas bumped and indented gave signs that there were more under his clothing.

It was a split-second decision, but a decision he would never come to regret.

Jaemin walked up beside the boy, then loudly plopped down next to him, effectively startling him out of his concentration on his notebook. The boy said nothing and merely stared at the smiling Jaemin with a confused expression.

“Hi, I’m Jaemin,” Jaemin spoke up, stretching out a hand.

The boy looked at Jaemin, then at his outstretched hand, then back at him, before rolling his eyes and returning to his notebook. Jaemin was very taken back at that causing his hand to drop limp between them, however, he continued smiling the best he could and just flitted his eyes down to look at what the boy was writing in his notebook. To Jaemin’s pleasant surprise, the boy was not writing but sketching the flower bush he was sitting in front of.

“Woah,” Jaemin let his amazement bleed into his voice. “You’re an incredible artist.”

The boy said nothing and just continued with his shading.

“You must do this for a living,” Jaemin continued, determined to fill the silence. “Your drawing is so pretty and looks exactly like the real-life thing. That takes so much skill.”

No response, just the near-silent sound of the pencil sliding against the paper.

“You don’t seem to like my company,” Jaemin let himself fall back against the grass and stared at the slightly cloudy blue sky. “Yeah, I’m probably being annoying, I’m sorry. I just need the company; I’m stuck in my room when I’m not in the lab or in therapy, and they really keep me at arm’s length there.”

Silence took over them as Jaemin closed his eyes for a few moments.

“It feels like I’m losing sight of who I was before all of this. I mean maybe not, I’m still terrorizing strangers for company.” Jaemin chuckled, before letting silence take over for the next hour he had outside.

Checking the time on his watch, Jaemin sat up from the grass before rising to his feet. “Okay, I gotta go back cause my time is almost up, but thanks for keeping me company. I hope to see you again soon!”

He didn’t see the boy again until four days later when he found himself in a similar situation and Jeno refusing to let Jaemin stay in Jisung’s room for the rest of his two hours. Jaemin walked past the same area as the last time, and this time the boy was lying on his stomach under the shade of a tree, looking towards the small pond in the area.

With a grin, Jaemin bounded up to the boy again and plopped himself down similarly to last time, only this time he immediately laid against the grass.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Just as last time, neither did the boy reply nor gave him the benefit of attention.

“You’re not deaf, are you?” Jaemin sat up, eyes widened. “God, I should start using my brain to think. I know some sign language, maybe we can make it work.”

The boy huffed, “No, I can hear you.”

It was the first time he’d heard his voice, and Jaemin found it to be as enchanting as the rest of him.

Jaemin smiled, laying back down. “Thanks for letting me know. I would have felt super stupid.”

“Damn, it’s not like sitting down next to a random stranger and talking their ear off is stupid.” The boy said sarcastically, never raising his eyes from where he sketched the scenery in his notebook.

“It is, but that’s on-brand Jaemin kind of stupid.” Jaemin laughed.

But the boy didn’t respond, seemingly returning to ignoring him. Jaemin simply turned his face back towards the leaves of the tree and closed his eyes, willing to spend time silently in the stranger’s company.

They were never friends, but Jaemin would like to think that the stranger somewhat enjoyed his company, even if just a little. He means that for the next three weeks he’d sit with the stranger an increasing number of days since Chenle had been released from the hospital, Jeno was in therapy a lot more often, and Jisung was going through a particularly tough period in his chemotherapy, therefore isolated. The stranger never complained and rarely acknowledged anything he said, nor did he move and seemed to be actively listening at times.

On this day, Jaemin had been allowed to enter Jisung’s room after the nurses had ensured he was sanitized. He’d only been allowed half an hour but seeing Jisung frail on that hospital bed, attempting to desperately hold a conversation with Jaemin despite how tired he was, was enough to send Jaemin back in time. It was enough to take him back to the memories of his lover nonrespondent on a similar bed.

The thing with memories is that when they come for a visit, they overstay their welcome and refuse to go.

Jaemin was laying on the grass, arms stretched out, and staring at clouds as they passed by. The stranger was sitting a little distance away, facing the biggest tree in the garden area, deep in concentration while drawing. Jaemin had plopped himself down twenty minutes ago, but he had not spoken at all, not having the energy to hold a conversation.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He thought he’d been making progress in his therapy sessions and the crystals hadn’t made much growth past the middle of his back and some of his side. Yet somehow he still managed to feel stuck, not only with how the crystals were stiffening his body, but also with the way his emotions refused to change.

His therapist had helped him revisit the pain of his rejection by his own parents, the problems with giving away every piece of himself for everyone, and they were finally touching on the subject of losing his love. And they’d made tremendous breakthroughs, to the point where Jaemin was able to say out loud that the accident wasn’t his fault.

But why did he still feel like this?

Jaemin sighed, closing his eyes before they could start filling with tears.

“Jaemin, what’s wrong?”

Jaemin heard the boy speak up, causing him to shoot his eyes open in surprise. It was the first time he’d initiated a conversation, and turning to look at him, Jaemin could see that he’d put down his notebook and his pencil, choosing to look right at him instead.

“Just dumb stuff,” Jaemin replied after a pause to process, maintaining eye contact.

“It’s clearly bothering you, so it can’t be that dumb.” The boy insisted.

Jaemin sighed, turning his head to look at the sky once more. For a while, he didn’t reply, but gathering some courage to finally say something, he opened his mouth.

“I’m supposed to be getting better, at least mentally, but I just keep getting stuck in the things I should be moving past.”

“That just sounds like you being a regular human being.”

Jaemin didn’t reply for some time, and the boy returned to his drawing. No matter how fresh the air seemed, or how free the space felt, it all stifled his lungs and squeezed his heart.

“Can I tell you about what I’m stuck on?” Jaemin asked.

The boy hummed in agreement, “I’m all ears.” 

“Donghyuck, his name was Donghyuck, and he is the love of my life. We knew we couldn’t get married, not in this country, but we knew we would be together forever.” Jaemin sat up, a fond smile danced on his lips. “We met when we were kids, he pulled my hair in kindergarten because I picked up the last bunny plushie from the plushie bin and he was on his way to take it, but I told him a bunny needed two parents, so we could share. We were inseparable from then on.” 

There was a certain softness tackling at his heart, one that was lined with quiet melancholy. Jaemin traced drawings in the ground, willing his hands to stop shaking and focus on what he was saying. “We experienced everything together, and he was always there for me, as was I there for him. The death of his father, my first girlfriend, dumb bullies, realizing we were in love, my parents kicking me out. I’m here today because of him.” 

“It was my fault we crashed...we loved each other so much, but he and I were like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.” Jaemin laughed with a bitter tinge to it. “I don’t even remember what we were fighting about, but I wouldn’t give it up, even when he said I should.”

His voice faltered slightly as his mouth dropped into the ghost of a frown. “It ended up with us screaming at each other until he got so distracted he didn’t see the vehicle until it was too late.”

Jaemin’s head couldn’t help but rewind and rewind and rewind; hearing the hopeless beep of the heart monitor, feeling the excruciating pain he was in not only physically, but also emotionally.

“He never woke up, but he tried to fight through it. He fought for a whole two months, but I could tell he was tired. The nurses always scolded me because I always managed to sneak into his room and slept on the chair beside his bed despite having my arm, some of my ribs, and my collarbone broken on top of being concussed. But how could I leave him alone?”

Jaemin didn’t think his voice could carry him through anymore without breaking and encouraging tears, but he continued anyway. “He died quietly. I didn’t even notice until the nurse woke me up and pulled me out of the room. I lost everything that day.”

Jaemin wiped at the few stray tears that disobeyed his want to not cry, willing his lungs to start taking air again, to stop his slow suffocation.

"Jaemin, you need to remember you're not your loss. You're the extent to which you love and loved despite losing so much." The boy replied. This was enough to send Jaemin over the edge, and he let himself fall back against the grass once more to silently let his tears soak the ground.

“What if I can’t love?” Eventually asked, after he calmed down.

“Give yourself time to replace what you gave away.” The boy counseled.

And Jaemin would call that the first change in their dynamic.

For the weeks after that, there was a slight shift in his roam time. Jisung was now feeling better and able to walk around outside his hospital room, and for all that Jaemin spoke about the silent, nameless artist in the gardens, he and Jeno decided it would be a good idea to absorb him into their group.

It didn’t matter that the boy barely spoke to them and spent most of his time drawing, they simply sat around him and bounced back and forth between conversations and just relaxing. It was a little strange without Chenle, but he made sure to visit them when he could.

The season was getting hotter, so they were all beginning to wear shorter sleeves and lighter shirts. Sometimes they even convinced the boy to walk with them around the garden grounds. They still hadn’t managed to get his name, but that was okay, they’d just drag him along through every conversation. 

It seemed the starting of summer was bringing them new outlooks, as Jeno was finally deemed capable of receiving surgery to remove the flowers rooted in his lungs (when asked what happened with his love, he simply said that his love was someone who saw him as a little brother and was getting married in a few months), while Jisung was having more positive reactions to his treatment, and Jaemin’s doctors were speaking with him about possible experimental surgery to remove him of his crystals. They still didn’t know all that much about the boy, but they could tell he’d had no more flower growth either now that they could see his flowers a lot better.

The day they finally learned his name was not outstanding in any way besides that beginning fact.

The weather was a lot cooler due to the covering clouds and they’d decided to take a walk since Jisung insisted that he’d had too much time sitting during the previous rainy days. Like always they’d convinced the boy to join their walk instead of laying on his stomach to sketch some scenery.

“High school was a nightmare.” Jeno rolled his eyes, kicking a rock in his path. “I had built a reputation of being the quiet nerdy kid in middle school, so when I suddenly hit puberty and stopped wearing my glasses as often, people stereotyped me as the nerd turned delinquent. All I wanted was to mind my own business and keep people out of mine, but suddenly rumors were everywhere. I hate high schoolers.”

Jisung whistled. “I’m kind of glad I was homeschooled, I don’t know what I would have done dealing with my weird puberty  _ and _ everyone being assholes.” 

“I was a theater kid!” Jaemin exclaimed, laughing. “My childhood best friend and I were both theater kids and we were always competing for main roles. Because of competition and clubs, we didn’t spend a lot of time together in school, so imagine everyone’s surprise when in our third year we dropped some clubs and started sitting together at lunch. Jaws were on the floor when they realized we were super close — cause him and I could get  _ disgustingly greasy _ with each other.”

Jisung and Jeno shook their head laughing, while the boy walking between them gave a small smile. 

“Despite the unwanted attention, people barely even knew my name,” Jeno huffed. “They just called me Lee. You were probably super popular with everyone.”

“I was,” Jaemin agreed. “It wasn’t all that good though. It was super soul-sucking.”

“At least you're out of that,” Jisung snickered, adjusting his beanie, then pointed to the boy between them. “Now all you do is feed on the souls of people you randomly met.”

“But he likes our company,” Jaemin said, exasperated.

“Don’t let us be bullies, friend,” Jeno said seriously, tapping the boy on the shoulder. “Beat us into next week or say no.”

And it might have been the first time that Jisung or Jeno properly heard the boy’s voice, but he replied.

“My name is Renjun,” the boy sighed, smacking away Jeno’s hand. “And don’t believe for one second that I wouldn’t have kicked your ass already.”

Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin were all stunned for a moment before they broke into collective laughter and Renjun began scolding them for laughing at him.

They’d continued their walk after their brief laughing session, by request of Renjun, and Jaemin couldn’t help the light feeling in his chest nor the smile on his face. They didn’t even dim when flowers brushed against Jaemin's uncrystallized arm as they walked side by side, reminding him they weren't normal university students.

That was perhaps the second shift in their dynamic because while Renjun still kept to himself, he was now more engaged in some of their conversations and never hesitated to scold them for being annoying.

Two weeks after that, Jeno finally underwent his surgery and was recovering therefore unable to leave his room, so they spent time with him or outside without him if he was sleeping or unable to accept visitors. Jeno was over the moon to finally be rid of the pain flowers and feelings and hoped to return home in time for the wedding of his ex-love. Jisung was bouncing around too because doctors were discussing whether he was fit enough to return home and go through the rest of his treatment closer to his family. Chenle had started visiting more often for Jeno’s recovery, having returned to his normal life before the accident, albeit with a bad leg and missing pieces of his memories.

Jaemin was a little worse for wear, however, as the crystals had begun to consume his arms and his entire back, and it seemed his body was working overtime all the time with how worn out he felt. Renjun still walked around as normal, but Jaemin could tell he was lower on energy than usual. So instead of walks, they resigned to laying around under the big tree in the garden during their usual time outside, if they weren’t in Jeno’s room.

That schedule was disrupted when as summer ended, Jeno was discharged, promising to visit them often and send them pictures. Jisung, Jaemin, and Renjun were a bit bummed out, but nonetheless happy for the recovery of their friend.

Jisung was looking at speeding up his recovery, and he spent a lot less time wasting his energy outside, so Jaemin and Renjun were often the ones spending time together outside. They’d fallen into a nice routine of Jaemin attempting to pull Renjun into conversation every possible second and Renjun either flicking his forehead or rolling his eyes and replying. Jaemin liked to think that he was getting better at having the latter happen.

This particular day, they were both laying on their stomachs on the grass under the big tree and Jaemin was trying to coax Renjun into talking about the new drama that had been playing on the hospital’s movie channel every night at 9 pm, knowing that he was definitely watching it too although he denied it.

“The first love interest — I couldn’t even be bothered to learn his name — is such an asshole to her! I could believe what she let him get away with. All he does is ignore her until he needs something from her!” Jaemin rambled with dramatic hand expressions. “He’s just an all-round shitty character!”

“I agree that he’s terrible to her, but I wouldn’t say he’s an all-round shitty character,” Renjun interjected. “I mean they’ve been hinting that he’s got more dimensions to him and we’re only four episodes in.”

“Renjun, stop making sense! I just want a character to project my ha—” Jaemin’s brain finally caught up to what was happening. “You do watch the show, I knew it!”

Renjun only laughed in response, but Jaemin couldn’t even be bothered to be mad. Instead, he also smiled and let his eyes capture the way Renjun’s eyes lit up and how the gentle breeze rustled through his hair and the crown of roses that encircled it.

There it was again — the light feeling in his chest. It was so tempting to ignore like he did last time, but it was a feeling so familiar to him, he would be stupid to not know what it was. Not when he spent seven years basking in it.

He should have said something then, but he had not yet worked up any courage or strength. He had not yet found a way to rid himself of the guilt that lined the realization.

The next time he was alone with Renjun, a few days had passed and it was raining all day, so Renjun came to visit Jaemin’s room instead. Jaemin couldn’t help the shift in the atmosphere around them, after all, the realization came with new variables in their relationship. They sat silently watching a random movie on the hospital tv for a while, Jaemin on his bed and Renjun sitting on a chair and leaning against the side of the bed, before Renjun finally spoke up.

“Jaemin, what’s wrong?”

Jaemin chuckled. “You ask me that way too often, Renjun.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to ask if you’d stop beating around the bush.” Renjun rolled his eyes, no longer paying attention to the movie.

“Fine!” Jaemin sighed, exasperated. “I think I’m falling in love with someone.”

“What’s so bad about that, that it warrants the sighing Jaemin treatment?”

Jaemin gave Renjun’s shoulder a slight push, making an offending noise. “I just feel...guilty. It feels like I’m leaving Donghyuck behind when I promised I’d always love him.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what are you worried about? You still love him, and yeah that love will evolve and change, but you’ll still love him, especially with how deeply rooted he is in your heart.”

Jaemin gave it a thought, before dropping his head back and groaning. “It would be more hopeful and positive to stop loving everyone I come across so much.”

"Hope? You think that’s being hopeful?" Renjun snorted, letting his head rest against the wall. "To me, that looks more like fear. Trust me, I would know."

Jaemin didn’t reply; he only let the words sink in and mix around in his head.

“When I was six, my great grandmother was still alive, and I would go to her house every weekend to spend time with her.” Renjun broke the silence that had fallen upon them. “We always had fun; we’d bake cookies, play superheroes, take care of her garden but my favorite thing to do with her by far was drawing. She’d teach me what she knew and six-year-old me would try my best at whatever she told me, but I could never quite get it right. Still, she smiled and hung everything I made around the house as if they were art by a world-renown artist and I was so happy.”

Jaemin grinned at the fond smile on Renjun’s face. “Sounds like you really adored her.”

“Yeah, I did,” Renjun conceded, “I promised myself that someday I’d be perfect, that someday I’ll have the perfect hands with the perfect ideas and I’d make her the perfect painting. She died when I was ten, and I guess I can say that’s when I properly realized how I didn’t have all the time in the world. I’m still not there, so when will I be? And if I don’t make it, how do I forgive myself for the things I did not become?”

“That sounds like a heavy burden for a ten-year-old,” Jaemin lamented. “You work hard, Renjun, don’t doubt yourself.”

“I guess that’s why I’m here,” Renjun admitted, “I was so worked up in the need to be perfect, that every time I disappointed my family, it was like a stab wound. And I guess my family only worsened it, because they hated everything I was, to the point that when they found out I was gay they sent me over here just so they don’t have to see how terrible I turned out.”

Jaemin sat up, throwing his legs off the side of the bed and leaning down to hold one of Renjun’s hands in concern. “Renjun you didn’t turn out terrible. You’re an amazing artist and person, despite everything thrown your way.”

“I know, somewhere, somehow, I do,” Renjun breathed out. “I know logically that I can’t be perfect, therapy does work after all, but it’s hard? To look in the mirror and not pick myself apart piece by piece, to look at my art and not want to tear it to shreds. But I know, and I’m trying — fuck, anyway, the point is that I couldn’t love. I couldn’t love myself or anyone else, I still struggle, and it’s anything but hopeful. I really admire how much love you give, never expecting anything back. And you shouldn’t let anyone tell you it’s a weakness.”

Jaemin couldn’t help the fond look in his eyes or the way his heart refused to calm down, not when Renjun rambled on looking everywhere but at Jaemin.

“Renjun, can I kiss you?”

Renjun began choking and Jaemin sighed while gently patting his back until he caught his bearings once more. As soon as Renjun stopped choking he smacked the back of Jaemin’s head. “You fucking idiot, you can’t just spring a question like that without a warning!”

“But you haven’t answered my question,” Jaemin whined, rubbing the back of his head, his other hand still wrapped around Renjun’s.

Renjun glared at him for a moment before huffing, “Yes.”

Jaemin immediately leaned forward, capturing Renjun’s lips in what would be the first of infinite kisses, if he had his way. It wasn’t a feeling of sparks or electricity, but instead a warmth in his chest and fluttering in his stomach. All of it wrapped up into a moment he wanted to last forever.

The next week, Jisung died and the crystal growth stopped the mobility in Jaemin’s left arm.

It felt like the entire world was crashing down when he’d arrived in front of Jisung’s room with Renjun one afternoon, only to find an empty bed and a nurse packing up bags of Jisung’s stuff. It felt like a piece of him had died when the nurse informed him that Jisung had passed away during the early hours of the morning, sadly losing his fight.

Jaemin wanted to protest. Jisung didn’t lose his fight; he’d worked too hard to be denied that he’d only done the best he could against the cruelty of fate. It wasn’t a fight, but more of a testament to his strength for holding out for so long with all odds stacked against him.

Jisung, who had smiled so bravely even when his body protested. Jisung, who was supposed to get better and leave that hamster cage of a hospital. Jisung, who had promised to make Jaemin a playlist of his favorite songs merely the day before. Jisung, who he’d promised to come to see as soon as he could that day.

Jaemin didn’t remember much of what had happened after that as it was a blur of tears and screaming and eventually a warm embrace and quiet sobbing.

When he awoke, it was late at night and there was a wet sensation on his head along with a hand running fingers through his hair. Jaemin immediately recognized the room as his own and the flowered hand wrapped around his chest as Renjun’s, so he leaned in closer. It was silent grief, two boys laying on a bed too small for the both of them and a trace of bitterness in their hearts for all they’d lost that day.

“He’s gone,” Jaemin eventually blubbered. “What do I do — Renjun — Jisung is gone.”

“We mourn. Together; we’re still here together,” Renjun whispered. “I'll always be here.”

Always, always, always, always, always; let it echo enough to reveal how valueless it is. And he'd wished he never heard a word.

Donghyuck, Jisung, and eventually Jaemin and Renjun — they were all testaments to how meaningless human connections and love were in this bigger picture. They were all testaments to how insignificant life was to their universe. Try your hardest at everything you do, only for it to be ripped away from you in a split-second, for things out of your control, because it would never matter.

“Words like that are so fucking meaningless, Renjun,” Jaemin wailed.

“Let me fix that statement,” Renjun leaned his forehead against Jaemin’s head and closing his eyes. “I will be here for you as long as you need and want me. You and I, we're facing this together.”

Jaemin felt his head soak even more, but all he did was hold on tighter.

And the world moved on. There was a funeral they were allowed to attend. There were tears and silent embraces with Chenle and Jeno. There were stories shared of a little star that shone so bright for them — fond smiles and more tears. But the world moved on.

A world constantly evolving but they remained so behind. It was okay for them because they were going at their own pace.

It was only a shame the world didn’t allow a pace aside from its own and it felt the need to remind them less than two weeks later.

The doctors told Jaemin that going through with the experimental surgery was risky, with only 20% chance of success and a 80% mortality rate. The crystals were already limiting the mobility of his right hand and spreading past his chest, limiting his breathing. 

It was a cruel reminder that in fact would never have forever. That they weren’t normal lovers being in love in their own little bubble, that death was never too far away.

“If I don’t do it, it’s a 100% mortality rate…”

Renjun cupped Jaemin’s tearful face in his hands. “I love you so much. You know that, right? Whatever choice you make I’ll still be here with you, for however long is forever.”

“I need to try, don’t I? 20% is still something.”

“It is.”

"Don't we deserve a happy ending?"

For a moment, Jaemin could see exactly what he wanted. He could see a medium-sized family home, just big enough for a living room, a kitchen, few bedrooms, and an art studio, maybe a garden where they’d hear the laughter of children. He could see quiet nights, drinking wine in a warm embrace, and laughter as they made fun of the terrible movies on their tv.

But everything shattered as their heavy reality sprinkled over his dreams. They were still Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin, two people that met as hospital patients with their own individual traumas. They were Huang Renjun withering away like a flower and Na Jaemin being consumed by crystals. They were simply fools.

“Yeah, we do. Maybe in an alternate timeline, we would get the perfect ending.”

They’d make the most of it, even as Jaemin lost the mobility in his expiring body, even as Renujun struggled with his blossoming flowers. Spending all the time they could together; sharing kisses around every corner—

Reality was a sick joke. One they’d need to be laughing at to lessen the pain.

And laughing and laughing and laughing.

Laughing until the edges began cracking. Laughing until the messy broken lines covered every inch of them. Laughing until the weight in their chests became too heavy. Laughing until the sound of shattering glass filled the room. Laughing until the pieces laid all around them, piercing and bleeding them dry. Laughing until they realized they were crying.

And crying and crying and crying.

Na Jaemin and Huang Renjun. Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin and crystals and flowers. Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin drowning in a pool of blood.

A quiet giggle in the midst of a sunny afternoon; a warm embrace in the cold of the dark night; a gentle kiss in the pink hues of the new day. There was something there that was broken, but it would have to do.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on: [twitter](https://twitter.com/bunnieju)// [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/bunnieju)


End file.
